Polly Hudson says she's never been happy with her body but now she's pregnant she really misses the old her, just like she misses the pick and mix counter at Woolworths

Like most – let’s not say all, so we can live in hope – women, I’ve never been anywhere close to happy with my body.

Now, just about to enter the third trimester of pregnancy, my greatest wish is that I could travel back in time and punch myself in the face. Hard.

What the %&$#?@! was I complaining about?

Now
I haven’t got it any more, I suddenly realise my body was fine all along. I wasted SO MUCH TIME being paranoid unnecessarily… instead of waiting until now, when I have more than good reason. (I actually screamed when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror in my underwear
the other day, because I thought it was a huge, scantily clad intruder.) (Or a fat exhibitionist ghost.)

On
the upside, at least I’ve proved a scientific theory: you literally DON’T know what you got ’til it’s gone. And obviously my ex-body is merely the latest in a long line of things I didn’t value at the time – like how everyone tells you school days are the best days of your life, and you roll your eyes and get straight back to counting the seconds until you’re grown up.

And then when you finally are fully grown up, with a job and bills and responsibilities, you realise far too late – doh! – that they were right.

I
didn’t make the most of not being able to drive, never figuring that as
soon as I could I’d have to give people endless lifts and ­sometimes not drink on nights out. I was so busy wailing about dying alone and wondering at what stage my cats became a cliche that I failed to ­recognise any of the many ­benefits to being single. (Not just never having to watch Match Of The Day, but mainly that.)

No one notices toilet paper until they run out of it.

I
don’t treasure autumn and winter… until it’s spring and summer, and I remember how much more unforgiving sunlight is, and how much pressure there is to Do Something because it’s a lovely day, and be cheerful while you’re at it.

I’m never grateful that I can breathe without thinking about it, and then I get a bad cold, a bunged up nose, and long wistfully for those hallowed days – before recovering and instantly forgetting again.

And I never – did any of us? – properly ­cherished Woolworths. We were so lucky to have it.

Any time you needed something you had no idea where to get, ­Woolworths probably had it.

And don’t even get me started on the pick and mix. Apparently it’s online now, but that’s not the point.

There’s
also no point in saying we should start appreciating stuff – it’s human
nature to take what we have for granted, and life would be pretty unbearable if everyone went round constantly exclaiming wild joy about everything that exists.

The horrifying truth is that in another few months I’ll probably be nostalgic for the enormous body I have today. Sigh.

Luckily I’ve heard that kids are absolutely no trouble at any stage in their lives, so I know it’ll all be worth it in the end.